


Forms of Escapism

by DisraeliGears



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannibal makes it better, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Will is having a bad day, but Will doesn't know yet, sometime during S1, total crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisraeliGears/pseuds/DisraeliGears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will had a rough day at the crime scene. He wants to wipe his brain clear.<br/>Hannibal is more than willing to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forms of Escapism

**Author's Note:**

> This was...a random thing that just...happened. Don't ask why.  
> This is for hannibalsdong on Tumblr, who always wants to know when the porn is coming (pun entirely intended)  
> It's also for everyone leaving such nice comments on my current long fic, Scylla and Charybdis :)

                Jack sat Will in the middle seat in the back of the Escalade, between him and Beverly, to simultaneously prop him up and make it easier to keep an eye on him.

            Will told him he felt fine eight times, but it didn’t convince anyone.

            Will had fainted at the crime scene. He didn’t remember doing it; he’d just been standing there, looking down at all the hundred or so severed hands and feet, arranged in a bizarre sort of hieroglyph on the ground…

…and then he’d woken up, staring up at a bland grey-white sky just on the verge of rain, and Brian Zeller’s face.

            “Hell, Will.” He’d said, and patted his forehead unceremoniously, “You look like shit.”

            Will had lain there, the cold wet ground chilling him to the marrow, as Jack, Beverly and a few of the local EMTs came rushing over. They’d gently sat him up, shined flashlights in his eyes, asked him questions he answered monotonously.

           All the while, he stared across the macabre art piece on the ground to where Dr. Lecter was standing, fifty or so yards away, hands in the pockets of his camel coat, rich wine-red scarf twisting in the breeze, and a slight furrow on his brow.

 

          The town was Berlin, Maryland. It was a sweet little tourist town, well-loved and tended, and now with its own bizarre serial killings. It was too far from Baltimore to drive back, and so the FBI had put the whole team up in a motel outside of town.

          Will assured Jack that yes, he would be fine in a room on his own, and no he didn’t need someone to stay with him. Jack grumbled and blustered in that loud, shouty sort of way he had but Dr. Lecter appeared, opening the back door to the FBI vehicle. He looked between Will and Jack, and said, in a vaguely chilly voice,

          “If Will feels well enough, he should have a room to himself. We all need space for our thoughts, Jack, and Will’s take up more room than yours or mine.”

        Will didn’t look at the doctor. For some reason, his words didn’t actually feel patronizing like Jack’s did, but he still couldn’t make eye contact with him.

 

 

         Will sat on the king size bed, hands fisted in his hair.

          He felt dirty and cold and damp and…he could see severed hands and feet everywhere. In his periphery, they were under the edge of the bed. On the nightstand. Lined up on the windowsill like daisies.

            He let out a long breath and scrubbed his face with his hands.

           He was used to the images now, following him around and creeping into his life. He was used to the parasite that was serial killers living in his brain.

            He just wasn’t used to being this _angry_ about it.

          He got up and went to the bathroom, where he stripped out of his damp clothes and had a scalding hot shower. It didn’t help him simmer down, and when he reached for the little hotel shampoo, his brain substituted a shriveled hand in its place. Will swore loudly, seized the bottle (hand?) and hurled it out of the shower stall as hard as he could.

          As soon as he did this, there was a colossal crash- so loud he thought for a second his sidearm had misfired- quickly followed by a large quantity of tinkling.

         Will yanked aside the shower door and saw… _fuck_ …that he’d completely destroyed the bathroom mirror. Huge shards had broken from the wall and fallen onto the counter and sink below, breaking again and covering the ground in glass pieces.

         Will carefully stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and hopped over the bigger pieces to the carpet of the main room. He dried himself, glaring down at the broken mirror. He was just finishing his hair when there was a knock on the door.

       “Hang on.” He grumbled, quickly jumping into a pair of clean boxer shorts.

        He went to the door, mood dark and stormy, ready to bite the head off whoever it was on the other side.

         He wrenched it open, opened his mouth and…closed it again.

          Doctor Lecter was standing on the other side. He’d taken off his severely buttoned dark purple waistcoat, dusty grey wool blazer and delicate silk filigree gold tie, standing there now in a black button down dress shirt, unbuttoned just enough, and his dress pants.

           “I heard a loud noise, Will. I was worried you’d fainted again.”

           Will frowned.

         “No. I’m fine. I…the mirror broke.”

         Hannibal raised one very fine eyebrow. “It did, did it?”

         Will sighed and scrubbed his face hard with his hand.

        “It…I…” he muttered indistinctly.

        “May I see?” Hannibal asked. He didn’t move from his position in front of the door, clearly waiting for Will’s assent.

         Will stepped aside. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. Letting your psychiatrist see the damage your sick mind had wrought was one thing. Letting the only person on the planet who genuinely seemed care about Will to see it was another thing altogether.

          Doctor Lecter stepped into the room. He directly strode to the bathroom and looked in, hands in his pockets. After a moment or so, he crouched and picked up a single piece of mirror with his long fingers, turning it this way and that.

           “What did you see, Will? That made you smash the mirror?”

           Will sank down onto the bed, watching the man’s aggravatingly defined back muscles strain beneath his shirt. It infuriated him to no end that Hannibal knew him so well.

             “Any other time, you’d be right. But…it wasn’t the mirror,” Will cut himself off with a groan, tugging his hair in annoyance, “I keep seeing…hands and feet. The shampoo was…” Will didn’t finish his statement, just pressed his palms into his eye sockets.

          “You’ve never mentioned sporadic violence as a response to your visions. Is this something that’s happened before?”

           Hannibal straightened as he spoke, turning back to face Will. He leaned sideways and turned on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with warm light not from the bathroom. He closed the door on the broken glass and came to sit beside Will, a comfortable distance away.

          “No.” Will said simply. “But I’ve never been this… _angry_ about it before.”

       “Anger is a natural response when one feels they are losing control, certainly if they believe they are losing control over their own mind.”

        Will snarled to himself.

         “Nothing is in my goddamn control anymore. It’s all just…slipping away, like I’m trying to grab onto an eel. I just wish….” Will’s voice trailed off. He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.

        “What, Will?” Doctor Lecter said, head tilting.

         “That I could get it out of my head. Think about something else. _Anything_ else. I feel like if I could just block it out, drown it, I could maybe function. God, I forget how it even feels to think about something other than death.”

       “There are many methods of escapism Will. I would not recommend it as a long term treatment.”

       "I don’t want long term!” Will said, “I just need five seconds of time where it’s just me in my head! It makes me want to jump off a bridge, or get in a bar fight, or…or…”

        Will let out a huff of aggravated breath, turned to the doctor and grabbed his face with both hands. He planted his mouth on Doctor Lecter’s, hard, his lips unforgiving.

       Doctor Lecter didn’t kiss back. In fact, he was about as moveable and pliant as a marble statue.

       Will realized himself in a horrible lurch, as if he’d fallen through a hole in a frozen lake. He careened backwards, almost tipping off the bed. He leapt to his feet, staring with wide eyes at the man on the bed.

        Doctor Lecter was watching Will, smiling a very small smile.

        “I’m…Jesus, I’m sorry. That was impulsive and stupid. Sorry.”

         Hannibal considered him, eyes smiling at the corners.

        “Our impulses are rooted in deep desires, given life in moments of stress.”

          Will just stared. His chest was heaving.

         Doctor Lecter got to his feet. He was taller than Will only by a few inches, but his stature and posture made him loom enormous.

         “Sex is absolutely a kind of escapism. Probably one of the healthier ones. Don’t be ashamed of anything Will. Your responses, though to irregular stimuli certainly, are entirely normal.”

         Will looked away.

          “Fine. It was still…unprofessional.”

          “Then it’s good we don’t have a professional relationship, isn’t it?”

            Will’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked back up at the man standing in front of him.

           His smile was as cool and incomprehensible as ever.

          “Yes we do…Uh. Don’t we?” Will’s eyes narrowed.

         “You are not paying me. In fact, I haven’t billed the FBI for my services since stamping you fit to return to the field. I record information about you simply because you are a dear friend, and I wish to help you. To help you, I find organizing my thoughts and yours in a material fashion makes it easier for me to do so.” Hannibal looked down and adjusted the cuff on his dress shirt, “We are having conversations, Will. You have crossed no legal or moral boundary.”

         Will blinked. It almost sounded like…

         “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He said flatly.

        There. See what roundabout answer _that_ got.

        Hannibal took one small step closer. It was dark outside now, but the pot light outside the door was shining in through a slim gap in the front curtains. It shone orange-gold light in a small strip, and Hannibal’s eyes fell directly into the strip.

      They glittered like hammered gold leaf.

        “Why do you say that?” he asked.

          Will felt the strange anger he’d been feeling swell again, but with a different aftertaste.

         “I want…to stop…feeling like this.” He said, his voice hoarse.

         Hannibal’s smile just widened slightly.

          Will took a big step forward, seized Hannibal by the open collar of his shirt and kissed him.

       This time, Hannibal did kiss back.

       His mouth was soft and warm, and when he turned his head and let their lips slot together, Will’s tongue slipped inside the hot wetness.

         It was _rapturous._ He’d known Doctor Lecter was an attractive man, but _fuck_ , he hadn’t gone from mildly interested in someone to full on wanting to feel their body, naked and slicked in sweat, on and against him, _this_ fast since…ever.

          Will slid his hands up into the doctors ruthlessly styled hair, feeling the gel in his fingers. He devoured the other man’s mouth, sucked on his tongue and then Hannibal’s bottom lip.

          Hannibal grabbed Will by the waist, making Will grunt in surprise as the big, long fingered hands clutched his bare skin and pulled their bodies flush.

         Will’s cock was rapidly getting harder, but when he felt Hannibal’s erection, obscenely hard, outlined in his dress slacks and pressed beside Will’s cock, it jumped with a sudden rush of bone shattering arousal.

         Will pulled his face away, breaking the kiss, staring at Hannibal.

         “You…do you…I…?” the anger was still there, but it was…tempered now. Glowing like a coal. And it wanted to be fed. Fed _this._

        “I’m not opposed to unorthodox therapy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Hannibal said. He was breathing heavily too.

         “I didn’t know you would. Or wanted to.”

        “Oh, yes.” Hannibal was smirking now. He ran his hands down Will’s back, over his boxers, and grabbed two handfuls of the flesh of Will’s ass. “I’ve a lifetime of practice in waiting to get exactly what I want, Will.”

          He dipped his head and inhaled sharply under the point of Will’s jaw.

         “But to be honest, looking how you do in this moment, waiting just five minutes would be a test of even my self-control.”

          Will could feel the breath of the words across his throat, the damp heat of Hannibal’s mouth, and smell the delicious sandalwood of his hair.

           “Please…” he panted, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

          “Please what, Will? Be specific now.”

           “Please…Doctor Lecter, help me… _make_ me stop thinking.”

           With a dark chuckle, Hannibal’s hands slid back up, just above the waistband of Will’s boxers, and pushed them down just enough, hands sliding over the pale soft skin, then grabbing and pulling up and in.

            Will dragged his hands from the doctor’s hair, and began to roughly undo the buttons of his black shirt. He hadn’t seen him out of his spectacular suits before, in any capacity, and the skin the was exposed didn’t disappoint.

             Will leaned back, shoving Hannibal’s shirt off his shoulders. He ran his hands over the man’s pecs, through the just barely greying curls, the hard clavicles. Back down over the sides of his abdomen, thumbs following the muscles underneath.

            Will couldn’t stop himself from panting. His boxers had caught on his erection, tenting them obscenely, and his eyes went from it to Hannibal’s toned body, simultaneously self-conscious and aroused.

           Hannibal grabbed Will’s chin and tilted his head up. He smiled at Will’s flushed face.

            Then, he abruptly yanked Will’s boxers down the rest of the way, letting them pool on the floor, and bodily shoved Will sideways so he fell backwards onto the bed.

           Will sprawled onto the bedspread, and sat up on his elbows. He looked up at Hannibal, eyes hooded, as the man regarded him. He looked like a god, bathed in orange light, glowing.

           Will reached for him.

           Hannibal grabbed his hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it, then lowered himself onto the bed, first with his knees then hands, crawling up him. He was on all fours over Will, looking down at him.

          “You want to forget, Will?” he said quietly.

          Will licked his lips and nodded.

           Hannibal slowly lowered himself, pressing his nose hard beside Will’s.

          “I’ll make you forget your own name, Mr. Graham, if you’ll let me.”

           His voice was melted chocolate and battery acid, dripping from his mouth and into Will’s ears, eyes and mouth.

          “Do it.” Will hissed, grabbing Hannibal by the hair and dragging him down for a kiss.

            Hannibal devoured his lips and tongue, one hand seizing Will by the hair and yanking his head sideways. He dragged his mouth to Will’s neck, sucking and _chewing_ on the skin. His pelvis dropped down, grinding his clothed cock against Will’s bare one in a lewd, delicious rutting motion.

            Will parted his legs, thighs on either side of Hannibal’s hips, curling his ankles around to pull them closer together. His cock was leaking everywhere, making their bellies slip and slide over each other.

            He panted wildly as Hannibal kissed and licked down Will’s chest, teeth sliding in a sharp line across his nipple to his bellybutton, tongue following. Hannibal shifted his body down, looking at Will’s swollen, glistening cock, so hard it was furiously purple.

            He glanced up at Will and let a smile like a red wound slip across his face. He lowered his head, mouth opening and tongue slipping out. He ran his tongue across the thin, quivering skin of Will’s lower abdomen, around Will’s shaft but never quite touching it.

            Will whined, his hands buried in the man’s hair, tugging it back from the exotic planes of his face. He wanted those lips on him, wrapped around him, the tongue slippery on the underside.

            “Please.” He said, still pulling hair.

            He barely had time to finish the word before the tongue licked up his cock, base to tip, in one long slow movement.  Will kicked one leg, keening through his teeth and arching his back. Just the slightest of ministrations from that goddamn mouth almost made him come.

            But Hannibal didn’t stop there. He lapped at the head of Will’s cock, twisting and twirling his tongue around it, before taking it between his lips and suckling on the tip.

            Will watched with his mouth hanging open, breathing as if he’d run a marathon.

            It felt like heaven. Like hell. Like every fucking thing in between.

            “Ha…Ha…Han…” Will wheezed.

            Hannibal hummed around his cock, and Will yelped.

            “Oh, _fuuuuuck_.” Will growled, throwing his head back.

            Hannibal sucked hard, swallowing him down, then retreated back, tongue twitching and coiling.

            Then, before Will could process what was happening, he was flipped bodily, big hands gripping him by the waist. The sudden loss of heat around his dick was one thing, but it promptly lost its significance when he felt the hands pry his cheeks apart and-

 _Oh Jesus fucking Christ_ .

Hannibal’s hot tongue licked a wide stripe from Will’s balls, across his perineum to his hole, where it focused with abandon, wet and spectacular.

            No one had ever done this to Will, and it was fucking cataclysmic how good it felt. Will humped his hips, his cock grinding down into the mattress while trying at the same time to work backwards onto Hannibal’s talented tongue.

            “Oh, Christ Hannibal. _Christ. Fuck_.” Will babbled, one hand flying back and latching back onto the man’s head, pulling his mouth harder against his opening.

            Hannibal’s tongue delved inside the ring of muscle, a finger joining it alongside. His lips sealed and sucked, making noises so suggestive Will shuddered and blushed even harder than he was already flushing.

            Hannibal’s tongue was joined now by two fingers, gently stretching Will’s body open, his spit slicking the way. Will cried out, pushing his ass in the air like a cat in heat, Hannibal’s free hand clutching at Will’s hip. Will knew there would be a bruise.

            Tomorrow, he would be at the crime scene and know, when he looked at Hannibal standing nearby, he would have beautiful purple bruises exactly matching the gorgeous, long fingered hands all across his ass and hips. And no one would know except them.

            He couldn’t _wait._

“Fu…fuck me Hannibal! Now! I want you to…now, please.” Will hissed, looking over his shoulder at the man, hair disheveled, mouth slicked in spit.

            Hannibal ran his hand up Will’s back, causing goosebumps to rise in its wake.

            He leaned back away from Will, standing up and taking in the debauched and wanton creature below him. He stepped away briefly to the closet, eyes never leaving Will’s panting sweaty form. He yanked the door open, seized one of the little extra lotion bottles stored there and returned, throwing it down onto the bed.

            His eyes were hooded, mouth slightly open, sweat glistening across his muscular chest. He looked like a demon.

            “I want you to put your hands on the headboard, Will. You won’t let go of it until after you’ve come. Do you understand?”

            Will nodded, hands quick to comply.

            “And you will not contain your voice. I want to hear your pleasure, Will. _All_ of it.”

            “But…but…neighbors.” Will said, hands gripping the cheap wood board.

            “My room is on the other side of one wall, an empty room on the other. We are alone Will. And, quite frankly, I’ll not share you with anyone, not even your voice.”

            Will nodded, staring back as Hannibal began to undo his belt, slowly and luxuriantly. His cock was visibly hard through his dress slacks, and when they fell away, it sprang free.

            _He wasn’t wearing any underwear._

            Will stared at his cock, heavy and thick, long and uncut.

            His mouth began to water.

            “Please. Now.” Will rasped. He slid his legs wider, curving his back invitingly.

            Hannibal was on him in milliseconds, hands on Will’s hips, tongue fucking so deep into Will’s hole that he pinioned forward and almost hit his head on the headboard.

            Will remembered what Hannibal had told him, and let out a groan, getting louder as Hannibal pressed three fingers into him and twisted them in and out. He swore sharply when Hannibal grazed Will’s prostate, head falling between his shaking arms.

            “Fuck me, for the love of God, Hannibal.” Will snarled over his shoulder.

            Hannibal responded by pressing hard on his prostate again, and Will’s whole body convulsed. Nonetheless, the fingers then withdrew, and Will looked back over his shoulder to see Hannibal slicking lotion over his cock, his motions perfunctory yet so hot Will almost whimpered.

            “Remember, Will.” Hannibal said, leaning over Will’s back, his lips brushing his ear, “I want to hear everything.”

            And then he thrust in, hard, in one movement.

            Will howled, the pain snapping him back to the present, and then the pleasure obliterated it. He shoved back against Hannibal, meeting each hard fuck into him.

            “Yes, Will.” Hannibal said, voice hoarse and accent thick, “Like that.”

            Will called out with each wave of pleasure, Hannibal’s heavy cock dragging across his prostate and filling him with a vicious heat.

            If it was sin to be feeling this completely and utterly exquisite, Will would walk into the deepest pit of hell with no regrets.

            “Harder.” He said.

            “Ask louder, Will.” Hannibal growled, one hand seizing Will’s hair and yanking his head back.

            “Harder! Fuck me harder, _harder._ ” Will begged, voice high and breaking.

            Hannibal complied. His hips snapped hard into Will’s ass, their skin smacking. The bed screeched, and the headboard wobbled wildly as Will worked himself back onto the cock inside him.

            Will’s voice got louder, and once he started, he couldn’t stop, moaning and flailing like a bad porn star. Hannibal snarled behind him, hands both coming up and grabbing the headboard over top of Will’s.

            “Come, Will. Come for me.”

            Will whimpered again, his moans turning into a litany of Hannibal’s name interspersed with curses.

            “Hannibal, _fuck, fuck, Hannibal, fuck, FUCK, fuck me, Hannibal._ ”

            Hannibal laughed in dark delight, right in Will’s ear, and Will came.

            Will screamed, streaks of white shooting from his wildly bobbing cock and striping the bedspread. His body clenched and convulsed around Hannibal, and judging by the grunt behind him, it wasn’t unwelcome.

            “Come. Come inside me. Inside me.” Will begged, still working back onto Hannibal’s cock.

            Hannibal’s violent thrusts stuttered and stopped, and Will felt him come deep inside him, marking him. Marking him as _his._

Teeth sank into his trapezius, and in his complete bliss he threw his head aside, letting the sharp teeth sink into him.

            His own cock jerked again, shooting another little volley of come, then Will’s arms gave out.

            He would have fallen in his mess if a pair of arms, strong and warm, hadn’t encircled him from behind and reeled him in. His head lolled back, landing on Hannibal’s shoulder.

            “You were perfect, darling. So perfect.” The words slipped over him like butter.

            Hannibal pulled Will’s back to his chest, softening cock still inside him, and set his nose to Will’s damp sweaty curls behind his ear. He turned them and lay them down away from the messed sheets, shifting just enough to let him slip free of Will’ body.

            Will groaned at the loss, but the soft hands stroking across his torso made up for it.

            Hannibal was rubbing his face into Will’s hair and neck, catlike in his ardor.

            “What do I smell like?” Will said, breathe still rapid.

            “The most delicious meal I’ve never eaten.” Hannibal said, and licked the back of Will’s ear.

            Will chuckled and let himself relax back into the warm, furry body behind him.

            “I’d imagine you’re disappointed.” Will said, grinning now.

            “How could I possible be so?”

            “Well, I don’t think I _actually_ forgot my name.”

            “No? Well, you certainly remembered mine.”

 

 

 

            The next morning, Jack hammered on the door promptly at 7 a.m.

            Will jerked away, eyes blinking blearily in the slip of sunlight that came through the curtain. He sat up and looked beside him.

            Not only was the other half of the bed empty, it was made.

            But there was a note on the pillow.

            Will picked it up, rubbing his eyes.

 

            _Dear Will;_

_I slipped out early this morning, in hopes of minimizing the chance of being seen by our colleagues. Do not think for a moment I wish to hide any relationship with you from the public; on the contrary, I would show you off like a masterpiece if I could. I do know, however, that you would prefer to keep last night between us until we have discussed it further. I look forward to it._

_Yours, sincerely and with no regrets, Hannibal Lecter._

 

Will felt his heart stutter.

            He got up, grimacing at the pains in his body and dried stickiness between his thighs and on his stomach. He rinsed off quickly in the shower, got dressed and was out the door in ten minutes.

            The team was getting together on the far side of the parking lot, the big black vehicles all turned on and rumbling quietly.

            Will suddenly felt himself smiling.

            He felt…clear. For the first time in months.

            He was just closing his eyes, basking in the sun, when he heard the sound of a door opening behind him.

            “Good morning.” He said, smiling into the sun.

            “Good morning to you too, Will.”

            Will’s eyes snapped open and his head jerked around.

            Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller were emerging from the hotel room beside Will’s…from the room that was supposedly ‘empty.’ There were drinking coffee, and both trying and failing spectacularly to hide their gormless grins.

            “Wh…” Will said lamely, mouth ajar.

            “Sleep well?” Jimmy said brightly, causing Zeller to do a spit take.

            Will could feel his cheeks burning bright crimson.

            “Fine.” He grumbled.

            As if it could get any worse, Hannibal chose that moment to emerge from his room. He was impeccably dressed, stupidly handsome and flawlessly put together.

            Jimmy and Brian saw him, and both made strange snorting noises. Jimmy grabbed Brian by the elbow and dragged him towards the trucks, and before they were ten feet away, they were both giggling.

            Hannibal approached Will, whose shoulders were up around his ears, and face the colour of a tomato.

            “Ah. Not empty after all, it would seem.” Hannibal said conversationally as he pulled on his deerskin gloves.

            Will glared at him, and was greeted with a wide, toothy smile.


End file.
